


Rock

by Ellie5192



Series: A Little Light Music [22]
Category: Major Crimes (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 02:45:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellie5192/pseuds/Ellie5192
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Then again, the thought that Jack could have walked in and seen her bed full, the two of them wrapped around each other, Andy lightly snoring, is enough to make her nauseous."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rock

**Author's Note:**

> In true spirit of this fic, I’m taking canon events and changing them around for my own nefarious purposes *Dr Evil pinky* And I felt this chapter was especially relevant given today’s episode. I won’t be addressing every episode, nor bringing up every issue introduced- I feel that the show does a wonderful job of that all on its own. However, any plot points that are relevant to our two will be taken, remaken, and thrown up here.   
> As always, I hope you enjoy.   
> Part 1 of 2.

**Rock**

 

He wakes with a start, hearing the click of a door latch and boots on the floorboards. A quick look at Sharon in the dark confirms she is still asleep, which is surprising, because she’s not a heavy sleeper and surely a foreign and threatening sound should wake her. He reaches a hand out to her and softly rubs her shoulder. As she goes to make a sound and ask him what’s wrong, he lifts a finger to his lips and shushes quietly, and she’s immediately alert. They can hear the footsteps in the living space, and then they fade as the intruder walks to the kitchen.

In a flash they both throw back the covers and stand, and grab for their weapons, Sharon’s in her top draw on her side, Andy’s on the dresser by the door. When Sharon comes up behind him he turns to look at her and whispers in her ear as he’s checking his weapon. “Go through the bathroom, run across to Rusty’s room, lock yourselves in, and I want you to stay there until I say it’s safe”

“Yeah right” she scoffs, rolling her eyes and checking her own weapon in the same moment. With practice efficiency she checks the clip and flicks off the safety, and then is standing right beside him. She shoots him a look for good measure. He wants her to do as he asks and go hide in Rusty’s room where she’ll be safe, but he can see the firm set of her jaw, and so just rolls his eyes right back at her and gestures her forward. No use arguing with the boss.

They move out of her room and through the living space silently, practiced, years of training and an innate trust paving their way. He does a quick check of the front door and sees it in place, as it should be, lock intact, and that raises alarms for him, and he can’t figure out why. She continues around toward the kitchen, gesturing for Andy to cover her as she goes. He swings out wide, allowing her to take the sharp turn around the corner, with him behind her shoulder.

She rounds the corner in a flurry, deliberately landing her foot hard on the floor.

The intruder spins with a muffled gasp of surprise.

There is a moment in which she is sure she is dreaming.

She lowers her weapon.

“Who the hell are you?”

She remembers almost too late that Andy is behind her. For a sickening, silent moment she feels real and honest terror spread like a heat through her belly, and she closes her eyes against the question.

“I could ask you the same thing” replies their intruder, indignant and surprised all in one, which is a unique combination she thinks only he could pull off.

“Jack, what the _hell_ are you doing here, unannounced, at three in the morning?” she snaps. She is positively irate that he has put her in this position, but more because he did it in the middle of the night and has ruined a good night’s rest. She was dead asleep when Andy woke her.

Then again, the thought that Jack could have walked in and seen her bed full, the two of them wrapped around each other, Andy lightly snoring, is enough to make her nauseous.

“Who is this guy?” asks Andy. His gun is still raised, though his wrist has gone slack since Sharon took a step forward and addressed the man by name. His eyes flick between them for a second, noticing the familiarity, the lack of modesty from Sharon, the way the man is eyeing Andy with suspicion as though he’s the one making unsolicited house calls in the middle of the night. “Wait, Jack, as in, your _husband_ ”

“Sharon, who the hell is this?” asks Jack, gesturing to Andy, his eyes momentarily flicking to the loaded gun still pointing in his general direction.

She realises now how utterly ridiculous they all must look. She’s standing in her kitchen in her nighty with her service weapon, Andy half-dressed and armed behind her, while her husband stands next to her bench with a loaf of gluten-free bread in one hand and a bunch of bananas in the other, a surprised and thoroughly confused look on his face. She thanks her stars, her God and all the Buddha’s of the world that she and Andy had gone straight to sleep last night, nighty in place and modest enough to reach her knees and cover her cleavage. She doesn’t own much sexy sleepwear, but when Rusty is at a friend’s place it certainly sees the light of day. She can’t imagine how this conversation would go if Jack had a visual reminder of what Andy gets that he doesn’t. Worse still if he had walked in on them naked.

“This is Lieutenant Andy Flynn” says Andy, all bravado, his chest puffing out just a little in challenge, and boy does she roll her eyes at that. “And I don’t think you should be asking the questions, since you’re the one who broke in here at three in the morning”

Andy moves to stand beside her, his arms finally relaxed, and Sharon doesn’t know what to do. Part of her wants to hide behind him and pretend this just isn’t happening, another wants to push him away so it doesn’t look so incriminating. Mostly she just wants to sleep, because her adrenaline is wearing off and she can’t deal with this in the middle of the night. She can already feel the tension headache building.

She looks at Jack’s face, and she can see that he is every kind of devastated, and she knows that there really isn’t mistaking what the bedclothes and matching guns mean. This is the exact opposite of what she pictured when she finally got around to telling her husband not to come back any time soon, or to expect a warm welcome.

“Excuse me, _Lieutenant_ ” says Jack, slightly less macho than Andy, but no less territorial. “But I think I should ask you why you’re here with my wife, in my house-”

“This is not your house, Jack, this is my house, and who I have here is none of your business” she says, lowly and seriously, cutting off both men as she deals them her boss voice and glares for good measure. Jack shrinks back, just a touch, and she barely contains her smirk; she’s still got it. “Why did I not get a phone call?”

“Who calls at three in the morning?”

“Why couldn’t you have called before you left Vegas? Let me know to expect you?” she asks, putting her hand on her hip for good measure, because if he thinks he’s going to charm his way out of this one he has another thing coming.

“I didn’t think it would be a problem. It never was before”

“Listen pal-“

She spins towards Andy and places a flat palm on his chest, right over his heart, and looks at him dead in the eye, deeply and meaningfully. She can feel Jack’s eyes on them, but she doesn’t have it in her to deal with the two of them tonight, and makes a mental note to prepare herself for more confrontation tomorrow. Andy looks at Jack a moment longer, practically snarling, and then meets her gaze and immediately softens. She holds the look a moment longer, pleading with him to just fight his inner instincts and let her handle this. He stares at her, his eyes flicking between hers, and he gives a barely perceptible nod, and she feels him relax. She nods back at him, thanking him and reassuring him, her fingers twitching against his chest just enough for him to feel it.

She turns and faces Jack, who is unashamedly summing up what he’s stumbled on; looking between the two of them like he’s not sure which way is up. He must have figured it out by now, because he’s not stupid, but there seems to be an element of denial in his look, and she genuinely feels sorry for him. Still, she really can’t deal with all this tonight.

“Jack, you can have the couch” she says with finality.

“What about my room?” he asks, his voice lacking the fight it had before. She really didn’t mean for him to find out like this, and feels infinitely guilty over it. She explained to Andy not long ago that she would always care for her husband; love him in her own way, though she is many years from being in love with him. But she knows too that Jack feels much the same about her-that Jack still holds a misguided and delusional hope that she will one day welcome him back, as though his mistakes could ever be forgivable.

“That’s Rusty’s room now” she says, not unkindly.

“Rusty?”

“I’m not doing this tonight, Jack” she says, shaking her head and giving him a warning look as she turns and takes a step towards her room. “We will have this discussion in the morning. You can take the couch. Goodnight”

“The couch?” he whines. He doesn’t move towards her, and she is so grateful for that because with the way Andy is still eyeing him off she’s sure it would only take a twitch for him to throw the first punch. He’s never been particularly jealous, but this is her husband they’re talking about, and she understands that he feels threatened. She might feel threatened too, if Andy’s ex turned up before dawn with a spare key and some shopping, acting like she had every right to be in a house she doesn’t own.

She only ignores Jack, turning back to look behind her.

“Andy” she coaxes. He still looks ready to jump over her counter and throttle her husband, and she really, really isn’t in the mood to handle any bullshit, so only gives him another warning look and encourages him towards her with the barest flick of her wrist.

“Wait, he’s sleeping with you?” says Jack, stepping forward to follow them around towards the living room. He seems to be referencing sleeping arrangements, but none of them are deluded enough to pretend he doesn’t mean more, and she should be embarrassed, but she refuses to apologise for having a life that doesn’t include him in it. She’s never felt guilty before, and as sorry she is that it came to this moment, she doesn’t feel it now.

“That’s the idea” sings Andy, a smug little grin on his face, unable to hold himself back. Like a five year old bragging about his toy, she thinks. Jack is still in too much shock to process what he’s seeing.

“Andy” she hisses. She is aware that Rusty is still mercifully asleep, and only gestures to her room like she’s disciplining a naughty child. He goes, the grin still on his face mostly for Jack’s benefit, though of course she knows he is so very happy to be able to finally tell someone that he got the girl. Sad, really, that the first person outside of their immediate little family to know is Jack. She mentally shrugs, the late hour finally hitting her. Andy walks just ahead of her.

“The linens are under the TV” she says to Jack, before turning and following Andy’s swagger towards her room. Jack follows them around the corner, stopping near the couch.

“Wha- I, Sharon-“

“Goodnight, Jack” she whispers back to him.

Her bedroom door closes behind her with a deafening click.

She takes a moment to compose herself before she dares to turn around and look at Andy behind her. Her hand rests on the doorjamb, her head slightly bowed, her lips pursed, and she counts to three in her head and plucks up enough courage to spin and face him. She leans against the door, her hands resting behind her lower back, as she watches him put his gun on the bedside table, the safety flicked on.

“He still has a key” he says. It is not the opening line she expects.

She watches as Andy flings the covers open and slides back into his side of the bed, talking to her like he’s mentioning what the weather is going to be tomorrow. For the very first time she can’t tell if he’s being deliberately nice or passive-aggressive; subtlety is not his usual style, but then the situation is pretty strange- he might not have any clue what to say to her, either.

“He’s always had a key to this place. It was never really an issue until…”

She lets the sentence die, because she’s not accusing him of anything, nor will she make excuses for the standing arrangement she had with Jack. Instead she walks to her side of the bed stiffly.

She slides tentatively under the covers next to him. She isn’t afraid of him as such; she just fears that he might retreat into himself if she pushes him too hard. She lies next to him, on her side of the bed, stiff as a board, and when she feels his hand reach over and take hers, she breaths an audible sigh of relief. It comes out sounding like a high-pitched hum, soft and maybe a little bit desperate. He huffs in amusement, and then turns on his side to face her. She finally looks at him, and then turns her body as well, and he drops her hand in order to wrap an arm over her waist. She rests a palm over his chest, her bottom hand curled under her chin.

“You okay?” he whispers. His eyes scan over her face, cataloguing.  

She pulls her head back, shock and awe on her face, and sizes him up. It’s these moments that take her utterly by surprise, reaffirming the depth of his feelings for her. The long-lost husband with a key and legal claim just waltzed into her house like he owns the place, and Andy’s first worry is whether she’s upset or not. He realises he has surprised her, and so only grins as she takes stock of the situation.

She leans in and kisses him firmly. “Just fine” she says, shuffling herself down to fit against him and wrapping her own arm over his waist. “You?”

“Pissed as hell” he says. His tone is still light, but she can hear the tension underneath. “But we’ll work it out in the morning” he dismisses. He yawns, big and wide, and utterly exhausted. “Now I just want to sleep”

She grins at him. At least he’s honest with her, she thinks to herself. She’d be pissed too, and she doesn’t blame him one bit, but she can’t quantify how grateful she is that he’s letting it go for the night and allowing her to deal with this her way. He knows she can handle this, and his faith is overwhelming.

“He won’t be staying long” she says, her tone like a promise.

She hears him make a huff in acknowledgement. She squeezes his waist a little, and feels him squeeze her back. She turns onto her other side, disrupting their little cocoon, but allowing him to drape his arm back over her once she’s settled her back against his chest. It’s the position they often find themselves in anyway, on those nights when he hugs her in his sleep, so it’s familiar and comfortable. Already she can feel the pull of sleep again. She feels him nuzzle the back of her neck, and then laughs silently as he gives an annoyed huff and lets her go just long enough to move her hair up on the pillow and out of his face. His arm comes back around her, and she hums. His lips kiss her spine, right where her shoulders meet her back, and his arms tighten around her.

“I love you” he whispers in her ear. She almost shivers.

“I love you too” she whispers back.

There is a fleeting moment where she thinks she ought to feel guilty, what with her husband sitting in the other room, no doubt huffing to himself. But it’s been many years since she was blinded by that love, and many months since she realised that what she feels for Andy is no temporary thing. The deeper they get themselves into this mess, the more she realises that she is irrevocably in love with him, and he with her. Jack has his place in her heart, and always will, but his place in her bed was finished the moment she pushed him off to rehab. As she once explained to Andy, she loves him, but she is not in love with him. She thinks the distinction is an important one, because if she was still in love with him, this sleeping position would be awkward as hell, but instead it’s the most secure she’s felt in a long time, and that’s proof enough for her. She’d forgotten what it was like to be with someone who keeps her steady, instead of with someone who constantly shakes her foundations.

Andy settles again, shuffling into the sheets, relaxed for sleep, and she does too, her hand lightly wrapped around his where it rests close to her heart.

Steady as a rock. 


End file.
